Behind Their Facades
by angel718
Summary: Maybe some of our favorite witches and wizards aren’t exactly what they seem. Written in the point of view of numerous Harry Potter characters, consider this a mini documentary of their “real” thoughts...a glance “Behind Their Façades.” I got the idea f
1. Of Winter, Art and Inferiority

**Behind Their Façades**

Summary: Maybe some of our favorite witches and wizards aren't exactly what they seem. Written in the point of view of numerous Harry Potter characters, consider this a mini documentary of their "real" thoughts...a glance "Behind Their Façades." I got the idea from "Phoenix Nights" by Lupinslady. Quite a good fic…check it out!

Disclaimer: If Harry Potter were mine, would I really be writing about it on a FAN site? NO I WOULD NOT! (Breathes deeply.) Onward!

**Chapter One: George Weasley**

Imagine your life. Now, imagine your life with a twin brother that everyone thinks of before they think of you. Not nearly as much fun as the first time, is it? Sometimes, I'll admit it; I imagine my life without my twin. And sometimes, I like what I see.

How horrible is that?

But you need to hear the whole story before you go judging me, okay? Otherwise, it's a completely unfair trial.

Fred and I are identical twins who both happen to be fond of practical joking. We're both Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and we're fantastically good at it. We slack off in school since we're so busy coming up with new…amusing…inventions, and we work better as a team than we do alone. If one of us has an idea that doesn't work out, the other knows what can be done to make it work. Sounds great, right? Well, it can be. But there's a negative side.

Fred and I, similar as we are, are not the same person. I, for example, am a winter person. I love the cold, the calm simplicity, and the way everything looks after a freshly fallen snow. In fact, I once painted a winter sunset after such a snow, (standing outside in fifteen degree weather, just FYI) when all the colors were reflected all around me. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and it took forever to paint, but it was worth it. I've filled sketchbooks with pages and pages of landscapes. Anything to do with drawing, I find fun. On top of that, not that I work hard, but I work harder than Fred when it comes to schoolwork. You could say that I'm the more serious twin. I'm not exactly serious…just more serious. Fred, on the other hand, is a summer person. He's more into the heat and vibrant colors of our months of freedom. He's well known as the more fun twin. But there's one thing he's interested in that I don't think anyone knows about other than me. Poetry. He writes volumes, and once he found out who William Shakespeare was, he read everything of the man's he could get his hands on. It was quite surprising when I found out, needless I say. But despite this soft habit, he is the more daring twin.

The problem with this is, no one even knows about these differences, so they mostly treat us like one person. I'm always the second twin to be mentioned—if I'm mentioned at all. I'm pretty much the afterthought. You try putting up with it for sixteen years and see if you're not the tiniest bit bitter.

Looking back, that doesn't exactly merit imagining that your twin didn't exist. But I haven't finished explaining yet. What if your own mother called you Fred once in a blue moon, but has yet to call Fred George? How would that make you feel? And what if when you did something that you were quite proud of, and some random person told you, 'Great job, Fred or George!' without even realizing that this would offend you? What if the girl you'd harbored a secret crush on practically forever accidentally called you Fred the other day and didn't grasp it until you told her you weren't, in fact, Fred? And finally, what if people were actually disappointed when they, at long last, realized that you weren't your twin brother?

It doesn't exactly boost one's ego. Like I said, I'd like to see you try it.

Not that I don't love Fred or anything, because I do. I guess it's all just a little too much for me sometimes. Whatever. I've just totally wasted an entire free period that I could be using to do other, more useful things than complain for ages on a random sheet of parchment. I'm off to burn it!

A.N. I know, a little pessimistic. But I feel so bad for George! Doesn't it seem like he's just the random afterthought? I personally think it does. (Clearly, thus the purpose of this entire chapter.)

REVIEW ME!

When you review, IN ADDITION TO THE REVIEW, tell me who you want the next chapter to cover…the person with the most votes gets chapter 2. ANYONE can be voted for. Also, please fight the urge to flame. I hate flames. Constructive criticism is a TOTALLY DIFFERENT STORY, PEOPLE! So whatever you do, do not flame me and tell me it's constructive criticism. OR I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN…I mean, uh, never mind… Thanks for your reviews!   

Ta for now,

Angel718


	2. Why You Should Listen to Your Parents

**Behind Their Façades**

Disclaimer: What are you, stupid? I DON'T FLIPPING OWN HARRY POTTER, IDIOT! ;)

Author's Note: Thank you loads to all my lovely reviewers! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! Hugs for everyone! I know I said I would wait to get enough reviews to pick a clear cut winner, but I just figured out that my story was, like, ten pages back, so it's hard to get to…Therefore, I'm updating so it's easier to find. Besides, I want more non-flame reviews…;) Read (and review) away, my darlings! Remy Lulu's chapter now. (I love him.)

Chapter 2: Remus Lupin 

Werewolves. When I was younger, my parents always cautioned me, "Remus, when you go out to play, be careful of the forests where the werewolves live."

I would always respond confidently. "Oh, mama (or papa), the werewolf wouldn't bite a kid!" I never really listened to them when they told me that werewolves didn't know if you were a kid or not, and if they did, they didn't especially care. They had no idea what they were doing. I always thought it was ludicrous. How could a werewolf not know what he was doing while he did it?

I know better now.

Many of my hours are spent wondering, daydreaming about how my life would be had I not been bitten. The idea of it is amazing. No need to continue taking that vile potion, and I wouldn't have to spend hours after a full fledged transformation petrified over whether I'd killed or bitten anyone. I would have a proper job—right now it could vanish as soon as it began. When filling out job apps, one is going to have to tell one's potential employee right away about small things like that: "Oh, and by the way, just so you know, I'm a werewolf." Yeah. They're really going to hire me after I tell them that. This is the first good job I've had in years, and I'm determined that the students should like me. Maybe this will be my lucky break!

But, of course, if I've learned anything, it is not to put to much hope into things. Most of the kids seem fine with me. In fact, all of them do except those in the Slytherin house. I certainly hope they don't know anything, or I'll be run out of the school. This is the kind of thing I hate! The constant living in fear! Somehow, though, I just think that the Slytherins don't care about my lessons, or anything that I say, and I have the distinct impression that they judge me merely on the condition of my robes. As bothersome as this can be, it certainly is better than how everyone would react if they knew the truth.

On top of this, I now have to turn my back on love. If I ever met a woman that I thought I could love, I would have to keep my distance. I can't trust myself. I'm not safe, and besides, once they found out, there's an overwhelming chance that they would run and never look back. So I guess I'll die a lonely old bachelor in my musty old apartment, all alone. Great. I'm really looking forward to that one. But if I didn't… and I didn't warn her…oh, I can't bear thinking about what might happen.

I had a friend who was a werewolf, too. Perhaps you heard of him…someone told me they'd made a—what was it called again?—oh, right. A movie—about him, called _American Werewolf in London._ I really would rather not end up like he did, though, i.e. killing innocent people and ending up dead. If I ever did kill someone, I wouldn't want to live anymore.

Those nights when I lose my sense of self completely, I become a monster, utterly incapable of rational thought. I could murder my own mother and not even realize it until the next morning! Even now, I don't know if I've bitten anyone; don't know if anyone is now going to be forced to live a life of hiding, of dread, like I've had to for more than a decade. The only thing I do know is that I've never seen a person that I'd bitten.

Well, good, you might say. That must mean you haven't done it. But you never know. When you're a werewolf, you don't just stay in one place. You wander around, looking for fresh victims, and when you find them, you pounce, regardless of who they are. I once woke up on a morning after, as I call them, and found myself in Wales when I'd begun in London. That's when the seriousness of my problem really hit me. I couldn't bear waking up one morning and finding… finding that I'd done anything to regret. I shouldn't be thinking about this right now. I should be writing tomorrow's lesson plan. I am not going to kill anyone. I am not going to kill anyone. I AM NOT GOING TO KILL ANYONE! Everything is going to be fine…

A.N. Good? R&R, and don't forget to vote for chapter 3…and this time I promise you guys call the shots! (Still no flames, please.) Thanks again!


	3. I WANT ICE CREAM AND CONVERSATION!

**Behind Their Façades**

Disclaimer: Come on! Do I even need this thing?

AN: I can't pick a character who's the most popular among reviewers if there isn't one. So I (along with a friend of mine) picked the star of the next chapter. Comic relief, anyone?

**Chapter 3: Ollivander**

"Let's go get some wands from Ollivander!" That's all anyone ever says. I, for one, am completely sick of it! Does no one realize that perhaps I would like to have a conversation with a customer that is NOT centered on wands! Is it that difficult to believe that perhaps I don't WANT this stupid job?

You see, when I was little, I, too went to Hogwarts. I instantly fell in love with Charms. You just wave your wand and say some stuff, and you make something happen. It wasn't like Potions, where you had to mix all that icky junk together and make some weird liquid. It wasn't like Transfiguration, where you had to actually transform things. It was just better suited for me, I thought, than every other subject. The only one I liked nearly as much was Care of Magical Creatures, since we got to look at all those awesome…creatures. I had it set in my mind that I would become a teacher. My main goal: a Charms teacher, though I would settle for Care of Magical Creatures, like I said.

Never mind that I was rotten in school.

But so WHAT? Who CARES that I was horrible? It's not like TEACHERS have to be any good. Oh…wait, hold on…maybe they do…

I was randomly good at selling things to people, though, so this is where I ended up. I hate it. Oh, well! Too bad for me! NOT!

Every single time someone walks into my store, without fail, it is always because they need a WAND. Never just to pop in and say, "Hello, Ollivander. How are you?" Nope. Never happened. Would it cause a person that much pain to come wandering in and inquire, "Hey, Ollivander, how about we go grab some ice cream? Don't you want ice cream?"

To which, of course, I would reply, "Yes, in fact, I would love some ice cream. Thank you so very much for asking me," because I love ice cream. But has anyone asked me to go out for ice cream. No, in fact, they have not. Darn Florean Fortescue. I could have owned an ICE CREAM PARLOR! Just my luck to get stuck selling something you can't eat if you get hungry. Besides, he is supposed to be my friend, and yet he never visits and he never gives me free ice cream. Oh, sure, I'll give Harry Potter free ice cream, but will I give it to my old friend Ollivander? No, I don't think I will.

What has Harry Potter done to deserve free ice cream every single day, huh? What? Just because he banished the Dark Lord and blah, blah, blah, he gets free FOOD? He was an INFANT! He didn't do it on PURPOSE! Honestly! People these days!

Great. Now I'm having a craving. I've had a craving for weeks now, though. What's the difference? But I haven't eaten ice cream in years. Maybe I should just drag my sorry self over there and buy a cone. I am hungry, come to think of it. Hold on; let me look for some money.

Oh, hey, is that a galleon? No…nope, it isn't. Darn. I think I put some under that window seat. Yeah! Ten sickles and a knut. Yes! Skillful searching! Who says just because I have glasses I have crappy vision? WHOEVER YOU ARE, YOU ARE WRONG! Pardon me while I do a victory dance, please. Do you think I have enough for a double scoop? Maybe I'll get a discount, since we used to be friends before he ditched me. I'll be right back. Ice cream, here I come!

I don't believe it! I simply refuse to come to grips with the fact that Florean Fortescue did not just give me a discount and barely even remembered who I was. I had him OVER MY HOUSE, okay?

Oops, no, that wasn't Fortescue! That was Flitwick! How silly of me. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown that stool out the window, then. Oh, well. I have my ice cream! Bye-bye!

AN: I know it's a little shorter than the others, but this one was a little tougher. It was fun though. Thank you for my kind reviews. Please review this too—be nice!

To be honest, I'm a little disappointed! 7 reviews when I have so many more hits? It makes me think you guys don't like it...Other than you kind, kind souls who get virtual ice cream who reviewed and were so nice. (And you lovely people who put me on your faves!) I love you guys!


	4. She Who Stands Alone

**Behind Their Façades**

Disclaimer: I wouldn't be wasting my time with this site if I owned Harry Potter.

AN: Thanks for all the great reviews! I love you guys SO much! (Hands out free food to kind people who reviewed.) I picked a character that was voted for this time, since she seemed easier to do than anyone else. Warning: GIRLY CONTENT!

Chapter 4: Ginny Weasley 

Sometimes I hate my parents. Who in their right mind would want seven children? SEVEN! My personal belief is that they wanted a girl as well as a boy, so they just kept trying until they got me. Then once they had me, they were completely satisfied and didn't feel the need to have any more children. And, honestly, that's very touching. I appreciate my existence on this planet, thank you very much. But with six brothers, a girl can get a little lonely sometimes. Couldn't they at least have one more girl, maybe an older one so she could explain some things to me?

I mean, really. My mom, having never had to tell Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, or Ron about menstruation, never did. She totally forgot to give me any kind of warning! And thus, when I woke up one morning mere days before going to Hogwarts for the first time and found…well, yeah; anyway, long story short, I thought I was going to die. I seriously went bursting out of the bathroom sobbing about getting to a hospital before it was too late. ("Mom! Mom! You have to get me to a hospital! I'm gonna die! I DON'T WANT TO DIE, MOM!)

Mom came running over to see what was the matter, obviously thinking something was horribly wrong. But when I explained it to her, she went very red and apologized about twenty times before even telling me what was going on. When I found out, needless I say I was completely humiliated for behaving so strangely over such a thing. But I was also mad. It turns out the saying "seeing red" is completely true when one gets angry enough.

And that's not all! Not only am I the only girl, but I'm also the youngest. So everyone expects me to be this small, shy, weak, introverted little thing that I'm just NOT. Every one of my brothers throws a fit every time I look twice at a boy I'm interested in, saying that I'm the girl and I should wait for the lust object to make the first move. Ridiculous. They make me laugh. Half of the time, that "lust object" is one of my guy friends that I'm hanging out with, feeling more like he's another brother than a potential love interest. And then they treated my like this cute little thing when I was so embarrassed around Harry. ("Aw, lookit! Ginny's got a little crush!") Is it any WONDER I was always such a mess?

I've learned not to tell anyone in my family anything. Boys can't keep secrets, especially incredibly annoying older brothers who leak whatever you tell them to other people for "your own good, Gin, it's for your own good." Like that thing with Harry, for example. He probably would have figured it out for himself that I had an intensely huge crush on him—he isn't dumb, deaf and blind. Still, though, they all went running to him before he even knew me. "Harry, wait until you meet our sister Ginny. She's so obsessed with you. It's a riot." Oh, yes, a real freaking barrel of laughs. And mother finds everything I say just adorable. Just too, too cute. Despite the fact that I am completely serious whenever I make the dire error of confiding something in her. Why do you THINK I got sucked into Riddle's diary? Maybe if I'd had someone to TALK to, I would have been a little more suspicious of a writing journal. I was just happy to have a friend who seemed trustworthy and kind.

Too bad. I guess it was too good to be true.

Now I have Hermione to talk to at least. I know SHE won't tell Harry or Ron any of the stuff that I tell her. She's not an idiot. And I have other friends to talk to who are my age. But I can complain all I want and they still won't understand why it's such a big deal. They get why having one brother is a pain, but having SIX is even worse, which is the part that they DON'T quite comprehend. "Why are six brothers any worse than having one? You just have to hear the same stuff over and over again. You can just tune them all out or tell them you've already heard it." Wrong. In fact, I think my brothers have mini conferences about me when I'm not in the room to hear it. "Okay, so what have you lectured Ginny about this morning? Oh, really. Well did you say (blah, blah, blah)? No? I'll just go off and tell her that, then." So then, the next dutiful, desperate to keep me innocent brother comes steamrolling into my room to add details about why it's a very bad idea to have a boyfriend and how rotten the male race is as a whole. Yeah. Right. But anyway, so now I've started a new journal to make up for the lack of good people to confide in. Lucky for me, THIS one doesn't write back.

AN: Ha! A longer one! Okay, so tell me what you thought about Ginny's chapter, or the whole story all together. I like suggestions for future chapters, and now I'm going to start picking out of those you tell me to do until I run out. Then I'm picking my own again. I'm not sure how long this fic will end up being, but I'll keep updating as long as I'm supported. REVIEW!


	5. Regrets, Ferrets, and a Rat

**Behind Their Façades**

Disclaimer: Puh-leeze

AN: Right. Nothing to say, really. Here's chapter five.

**Chapter 5: Sirius Black**

I am so tired of eating ferrets, you would not even believe it. Honestly, they're disgusting! But yet, I have to eat them. I EAT THE SAME THING AS MY HIPPOGRIFF! Is it me, or is that a complete injustice?

You know, I shouldn't even be in this position today. It's all because of Peter Pettigrew, the slimy little git. When Lily and James Potter—James, my best friend from Hogwarts and on—suggested that I be their Secret-Keeper, I was enthusiastic. I knew, no way, no how would I rat them out. I'm not that kind of guy. But say Voldemort had one of his followers slip me a truth serum or something and I accidentally spilled it anyway! I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Peter had been another friend from school, and I figured that "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named"—could the guy be a little more full of himself? —would never think of the Potters using him. So they did. He probably wouldn't have thought of it, but the little (insert swear word of your choice here) went to him and turned them in. Then he cornered me, accused me of doing it loudly enough for half of the continent to hear, blew up an entire street and faked his own death so everyone would think I did it.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to laugh insanely when I figured this out…

But it wasn't like I was laughing because he'd killed all of those people! It was just a random reaction.

That's not important now, I guess. Now I have to worry about taking good care of Harry. Harry Potter—James and Lily's son. They made me his godfather before they died and wouldn't you know it? I've been kept away from him for the past thirteen years of his life. Jail. So I've only just come into it. It's quite a long story that I have no particular interest in telling. But I figure if I couldn't save his parents…and believe me, not a day in my life goes by when I don't wish I hadn't done things differently…I should at least try to help Harry.

Harry should be living with me right now, butthe little (insertsame swear word of your choice here) Pettigrewmanaged to get away before we could turn him in. So all I can do is correspond with him through owl post, in which I have to be careful of all the words that I use lest the owl fall into the wrong hands. I wish I could at least tell him where I'm hiding.

With my luck, the stupid bird that I used would probably unintentionally take the letter to Cornelius Fudge. (You know, the Minister of Magic?) This would be exceedingly bad, especially considering that I'd only narrowly escaped having my soul sucked out through my mouth. I highly doubt that he'd listen to my sob story over a cup of tea and some biscuits and then realize that I am an innocent man who deserves to run free.

I wonder what James would say if he could see his son now.

I wonder what James would say if he could see me now.

I wonder what life would be like for all of us if Voldie had never murdered the Potters.

I wonder when I started calling him Voldie.

I wonder when I'm going to drive you all insane with all my ponderings.

What else am I supposed to do with my time? I already finished my novel, wrote a letter to Harry, fed Buckbeak (the hippogriff), took a stroll into town and ate some table scraps that a lovely young woman slipped me when she saw me wandering past. Very nice of her, wasn't it? Then, I ate some ferrets. So, anyhow, now that I've done all of that, I haven't much else to do but think.

Right. This is fun. I love driving myself insane thinking about my regrets. Please note the heavy sarcasm in the above sentence.

Ew. Buckbeak has apparently got a feather-ball and is retching all over the place. Gotta go clean that up.

AN: Get it? Feather-ball? Hairball? Funny, right? (Silence) Fine! Be that way! Just review. I expect more than three reviews this time, guys! Pweeze? If not for me, do it for Robert Pattinson, AKA Cedric! (Or the other Hogwarts hottie of your choice…sorry to my guy readers for the Cedric thing!) By the way, don't hurt me if some of my spelling is off...


	6. Socks and Friendships

**Behind Their Façades**

Disclaimer: (Insert disclaimer here).

Chapter 6: Dobby 

Harry Potter gave Dobby new socks today. Dobby has lots of socks, yes. But the socks the Harry Potter gives Dobby are Dobby's favorites. The other house elves thinks Dobby is crazy, but I says to them, "You is just jealous because Harry Potter does not give you socks!" HA! I has more socks than all of them put together!

Professor Dumbledore likes Dobby's socks. He says they are all "unique." I loves Professor Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore is much nicer than Dobby's old masters.

He says I can say anything I wants about anybody. I likes this, but I doesn't say anything bad about him. He is too nice. But now I can say that Mr. Malfoy sings a song every night when he brushes his hair…I hears him! The song goes, "_I'm a Barbie girl/In a Barbie world_…" but then he finds me, so I doesn't hear the rest of the words. Mr. Malfoy makes Dobby iron his face after this, so I doesn't go near his bedchamber unless he tells me to up to the day I gets freed.

I doesn't get punished at Hogwarts. Instead, I gets paid and doesn't have to work for one whole day a year if I doesn't want to. All the other house elves doesn't talk to me, but I doesn't care. They is all enjoying their jobs without pay! So it doesn't matter, because they is not like me.

Besides, Dobby has his own friends! Harry Potter has visited Dobby with his friends, Hermy and Wheezy! They is very nice to Dobby. Harry Potter's Wheezy is giving Dobby a sweater for Christmas! 'Tis very nice of him. Hermy thinks Dobby should be wanting more paying and more days off, but Dobby doesn't want too much. But she is a good person still.

Dobby is helping make dinner for the castle right now. This is one of Dobby's favorite things to do most days. But today I is lonely and I wishes that Harry Potter would come visit again with his Hermy and Wheezy. So I is talking to myself so I doesn't feel lonely anymore!

It is not working.

The other house elves is looking at Dobby funny.

But Dobby doesn't care what the other house elves think, remember?

Dobby is lonely, like Dobby said before, but now Dobby is bored. I doesn't feel like helping with dinner today, but I has already helped with breakfast and lunch, so I has to help with dinner. Maybe Dobby will finish helping with dinner fast and then go knit socks for Harry Potter. Dobby likes to knit, and Harry Potter deserves socks!

I has decided which patterns to use, too. I knows Harry Potter will love them, because I pays attention to what Harry Potter likes to do, and that is how I picks the wool for his socks. I makes sure that I doesn't make the same mistake that the other people who gives him socks makes—the socks that they gives him are two of the same! I knows that this is wrong, so I makes sure that the socks are different.

Dobby has to go finish making dinner now, so Dobby has to pay attention. Bye bye!

AN: Yes, I know, it's short. Stop complaining. Dobby's hard to do! Remember, he sometimes refers to himself in the third person and his grammar isn't the best, so don't flame me and tell me that I had crappy grammar and didn't stay in one point of view. You would be wrong. :) This probably wasn't that great, but be nice anyway please!

I tried asking you to review for Robert Pattinson or someone of the like, and it didn't really work. So I'm not going to bother coming up with a reason for you to review other than: if you review, I'll update faster. That's a promise.


	7. Barbie Girl

Disclaimer: …Yeah. No.

I AM SOOOOOOOOO SORRY! IT HAS TAKEN ME FOREVER TO UPDATE AND I FULLY REALIZE THAT…AND IT IS COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY MY FAULT. PLEASE R&R ANYWAY…

Lucius is COMPLETELY out of character and I know that. But I like him better this way.

Lucius Malfoy 

"_I'm a Barbie girl in a Barbie wooooorld. It's fantastic…"_Wait, what am I doing?! Why am I singing "Barbie Girl" again? I THOUGHT I WIPED THAT SONG FROM MY MEMORY!!!!! Ah, well, I suppose what will be will be…

You know, everyone makes me out to be the bad guy, and I am SO not. Honestly, think about it. With hair like mine, how could I not be a complete whacko? I have had really long hair my entire life. In kindergarten, it was down to my butt. And it was curly, too. I looked really pretty…But the really depressing thing was, no one else thought so. Actually, to be truthful, in kindergarten through third grade, ALL the guys thought I was pretty. But they also thought I had cooties, because, in case you haven't figured this out, they thought I was a girl.

DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL AFTER THAT?!?!

Moving on…once they figured out that I was, in fact, a guy (which took until the first day of fourth grade…I refuse to go into the painful story about that day) they started teasing me relentlessly. They would steal my stuff and throw it into the girls' bathroom and then dare me to go get it. And I would, 'coz if I didn't, they threatened to give me a swirly. And that's really unhygienic and disgusting, so I would always do it. And I would always, without fail, get caught, sent to the principal's office, and get in huge amounts of trouble. When I went back to my so called friends to tell them that they'd gotten me in trouble, they'd just laugh hysterically and sing "Barbie Girl" (by Aqua) at the top of their lungs. That's such a great song. It became my favorite song, actually, once I heard Aqua performing it on the radio. She did it so much better than those prepubescent idiots that it was not even funny.

So, whatever. When I went to Hogwarts and met Tom Riddle, HE didn't think I was a girl. And that was a reason to hang out with him, so that's what I did. The stuff he did and does are all extremely disturbing but was I gonna argue with him? NO! Do you think I'm an idiot? Get this: he and all of his friends were my only friends. Honestly. I was a shy kid. When I first met Tom Riddle, I thought HE was a shy kid, too, so I, like, gravitated toward him or something. And for reasons that I didn't understand, due to the fact that I was rather clueless at that particular age, no one else liked Tom Riddle, and those friends were the ones I'd be stuck with my whole life. I can't even count the number of times I've tried to leave and the subsequent number of times he's threatened and/or tried to kill me for this.

I had sort of hoped that Draco wouldn't be sucked over to the dark side. We never, EVER let his hair get anywhere near his shoulders and constantly slicked it back and straightened it when it started getting curly. None of it worked. Not that he's totally evil or anything, but he DID try to kill Dumbledore. Yeah. That's not good. I actually like Dumbledore and all the people I pretend to hate, but Riddle's ALWAYS WATCHING ME! THE IDIOT WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE! So I fake it. It's really, really annoying, but I've had too many bones broken by him to bother doing anything else.

I probably shouldn't even be thinking this. I'm just WAITING for the day when he starts talking to me in my head. I will SO be forced to do something drastic. Like (gulp; shudder) cut…my…my…_hair._ Ugh, I can't bear to think it! Must stop thinking! Must…not…think…

AN: Awww, poor Luci-poo. Do R&R, please. Tell me if you like the new and improved Mr. Malfoy…The point was that he WAS out of character.


	8. A Way to Sleep at Night

**Disclaimer:** If Harry Potter were mine, I wouldn't be mourning about some of the stuff that happened in Deathly Hallows.

**Author's Note:**Wow, guys, I am be_yond _sorry for how long this has taken me. (Hello. Updated last in 2006? _What?!_) Anyway, I fully understand if you hate me and no longer want to review. But I started this fic and I will finish it. In fact, three chapters to go…counting this one. It takes place post-HBP but pre-DH. Moving on!

**Chapter 8: Draco Malfoy **

When I was younger, I wanted to be a Death Eater _so badly_. I thought being one, having that tattoo on your arm, entitled you to special privileges and rewards just because it was there. Of course, I never saw the torturing or killing that preceded that special treatment. I didn't know that you had to basically sell your soul to Lord Voldemort before people would look at you the way they looked at my father. I thought it was respect. It was fear. My parents knew about my wish, and they made the most of it. They cherished their place among the Dark Lord's elite and wanted to make absolutely sure that I'd be in as well. So from a very young age, I was taught to despise Muggles and Muggleborns. Only witches and wizards of the absolute purest blood were worthy of life and that everyone else simply did not matter. If there was something those others could do for me, I was to make them do it whether they wanted to or not. If there wasn't, well, I could just do whatever I wanted to them. Above all, I was taught to despise Harry Potter. My parents painted a picture of a perfect world in which we Purebloods were treated as the royalty we were, served by everyone with so called "dirty blood" until they could be of no more use. When I asked what happened to them after we were through, my parents simply shook their heads and said, "Well, Draco, that doesn't really matter." The Dark Lord ran the world they described. According to my entire family, particularly my Aunt Bellatrix, this man, this supreme wizard, was meant to be revered above everyone else. Aunt Bella was the one who first shared the story of Harry Potter with me. I was probably around seven. "Draco," she sighed, "you know how you want to have a tattoo like me and Daddy?" And she rolled up her sleeve to let me look at it. I nodded, mesmerized by its design, longing to run my fingers over it. Even then, though, I knew better. "Well, the man who gave us the tattoo is very ill now. He is not dead, but very near to it." I pouted. "Does that mean I can't get one then?" She shook her head. "You can. When he returns. And he _will _return, and we will all get our revenge on Harry Potter." "Harry Potter?" "He is the boy who did that to our master. Draco, he is a horrible person…his mother was raised by Muggles, if that tells you anything." I had not yet learned to term 'Mudblood.' I would, soon enough. Aunt Bella went into much more detail, until Harry Potter became a hated rival, inhuman, fit only to be murdered in cold blood.

At school, things progressed into mutual enmity. Harry Potter had nearly killed our master. Harry Potter, who spent his time with blood traitors, Mudbloods and half-breeds. Harry Potter, who had very little talent (except, I was forced even then to concede, though never aloud, on a broomstick). And he had such _nerve, _strutting about as though what he had done to the Dark Lord was something to be proud of! How I hated him.

But then…then, I met our 'master'. He terrified me. He wasn't worthy to be revered at all; he was, in fact, insane! My first mission was to kill Dumbledore, or face death myself. I froze on the spot. How could I kill? I never really liked our old headmaster, but I hadn't any reason except what I'd heard about him at home…and the fact that the school was loaded with Mudbloods, half bloods and the like. Still, he had never done anything to me specifically and I just couldn't do it. I came close, very close, if only because I feared what would happen to me if I disobeyed. After all, I may as well have simply jumped out the window if I didn't succeed. It would be a far less painful way to die. But as I looked at him, facing what appeared to be certain death without even a shudder, I simply couldn't make the words leave my mouth.

So I suppose I'm not as bad as everyone thinks, am I? Sure, now I'm a disgrace to my family and am certainly not in the Dark Lord's best favor, but…I didn't kill. I've never killed. And I guess that's something that I can use to help me get to sleep at night.

**A.N.** Here's hoping it was worth the wait! Review!!


	9. I'll Teach Him to Love

Chapter 9: Bellatrix Lestrange

For Nor of Kiamo Ko!! You gave me the idea, after all...

Not mine. Just read and review, loves!

Maybe I'm stupid, naïve…whatever you want to call me, it's probably true. Because the typical woman would never assume that the Dark Lord could ever love her. But…I just can't help but hope…that maybe if I do whatever he wants, he'll fall for me.

After all, I _am_ his right hand woman. Lucius and Cissy lost favor with him a couple of years ago, so he's after them _and _their little brat, and we were basically the only three who stood by him even when we were in Azkaban and he was recuperating.

Cissy thinks that I'm ridiculous. I never told her how I feel, but I guess she figured it out. She insists that he doesn't—can't—love anyone. I was furious with her and I told him what she'd said, but he just laughed. No denial. And after all, it's been almost twenty years. I should probably give up, because if it hasn't happened yet it probably won't. But I just can't do it.

I'm not sure what it was that drew me to him, really. I can't say he was charming. I guess it was…he was so in control. He knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to go for it, no matter what. And he _could_ be charming, in a way, when he wanted. When he was first recruiting and he wanted us to do something, he knew exactly what to say to get the job done at top speed, and to be absolutely loyal. It didn't take long for most of us to completely commit. Especially me…I respected him even then, agreed with all of his views. So I threw myself, body and soul, into Death Eater-ism.

I wanted nothing more than to rise through the ranks, learn anything and everything about the fascinating, mysterious man who led us. And I did. I did everything he asked of me and more. Any time I saw someone I knew was a target, I made sure to observe them closely and report all of my findings back to him. I never made the mistake of killing them before we'd planned it…everything had a schedule, a reason, a _specific plan_ when we started. Sure, we could kill or torture whichever Mudblood or muggle we wanted to. But when people were being specifically targeted, we had to be more careful because it meant they were important. I asked him once whether I should just kill them and be done with it, but he insisted that I wait.

Later, though, starting maybe two years back, after we were finally out of prison, our orders changed. Kill as many members of the Order of the Phoenix as possible. And I knew just where to start. My family. My cousin, my sister, her bloody _husband_ and their…their freak of a kid. My _niece_. Gag me. My cousin is dead, at least. I killed him as soon as possible, and I thought I'd taken the girl down with him. She certainly _fell_ far, anyway. But she just didn't bloody _die._ Even so, I thought the Dark Lord would, perhaps, be proud of me for my attempts. No. He just gave me another job. Finally, though, he trusts me enough to put something of his, something important, in my vault at Gringott's. So…well…maybe from there…I can teach him to love.


	10. Epilogue Contains Spoilers

A/N: I know I said I'd write more chapters, but this is the final one. I thought it would be appropriate to end it here. Sorry for taking forever, and as always, HP belongs to the glorious JKR. A million thank-you's to all of the amazing, supportive people who have stuck by me and reviewed/favorited. I really, really appreciate it.

Okay. I give. I take everything back. I can't believe I ever complained about Fred. Not now. D'you know what I would give to have him back? Anything.

Mum's crying again. I can hear Dad trying to comfort her, but it's not working. I don't think they know I'm here. I told them I'd be at the shop, but I can't make myself actually get up and go even though I know they want to be alone.

Everything reminds me of him so much. I guess it's natural. I mean, he _is _my twin. _Was_. I guess that's what I have to use now, huh? Was.

Merlin, now I'm crying. Fred wouldn't want me to cry. I'm sure of it. But I can't help it. It's like being ripped in half, losing your twin brother. There's this huge black hole that I have no idea how to fill. I don't really _want_ to fill it. I can't stand anything. I'm actually thinking about closing the shop. I haven't told anyone that, though. I know what they'll say. Fred would want me to move on. Continue selling prank stuff like nothing ever happened. Well, maybe it's not that easy for me. Did anyone ever think of that?

He shouldn't have died. He was much too young. Nineteen years just isn't enough time. When I think of everything he'll never be able to do…then I don't want to do it either. I'm trying to move on, I really am. I know it's not just me who's sad. But it's so hard. We did almost everything together, and now it's just me. Flying solo.

I can't believe there was ever a time I imagined not having a twin brother. Karma must be having quite a laugh right about now.

Why wasn't it me? Why wasn't I _there_? God, I wasn't even there. I should've saved him. But I wasn't. I didn't. And now there's nothing left to do.

I wish there was someone I could talk to about how alone I'm feeling. But Mum and Dad are barely at the point where thy can hear his name without breaking down. Sometimes I walk into a room and I know they think I'm him. And then there's this heart wrenching disappointment on their faces when they realize that yes, Fred is still dead and it's just me coming in.

Percy's worse off than me, I think. He hasn't slept or eaten in days and he barely talks. I think somehow he blames himself for what happened. Bill and Charlie have their own lives—Bill even has his own family to worry about. And I couldn't possibly burden Ron or Ginny with it, let alone Ron or Hermione. They've lost other friends, gone through enough without having to pick up my pieces, and they're younger than me, besides. All my friends are acting like any sort of mention of Quidditch, joking, laughter or anything like that will remind me of him and I'll just break down and sob or something. There's no one. No one left.


End file.
